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

by Joanne Fluke

  “Hold on a second. I’m coming along.” Mike got up from his place at the table and joined them. “You’re not going to be able to outrun that storm, Hannah. It’ll hit before you get home.”

  Hannah stepped out the door with both men following her. The air was so humid, it was like someone had put on a giant teakettle and it was steaming away to humidify the whole county. “Maybe, but I’ve driven through hundreds of storms before.”

  “This looks like a bad one,” Mike commented as they walked toward Hannah’s truck. “How are your windshield wipers?”

  “They’re fine. I just replaced the blades.”

  “And your tires?”

  “They’re practically new. Stop being such a worrywart, Mike.” Hannah gave him a smile to show that she appreciated his concern even though she thought he was being ridiculously overcautious. “If it starts coming down in buckets, I’ll pull off to the side of the road until I can drive safely again.”

  “Will you call the cottage when you get home?” Norman asked, opening the door of the truck for Hannah. “Then we’ll know you got there all right.”

  Hannah climbed behind the wheel and lowered the window. “I’ll call the minute I walk in the door. Give me at least an hour, though. It might take me that long to get home.”

  “I still think I should follow you,” Mike said, beginning to frown.

  “Thanks, but that’s not necessary.” Hannah started her car and gave a little wave as she drove off. She glanced in her rearview mirror and chuckled slightly. Norman had one hand half-lifted in a wave, but Mike was glowering like there was no tomorrow. He really didn’t like it when he didn’t get his way and he’d wanted to follow her home. The fact that he was worried about her was flattering, but she didn’t like being cast in the role of a helpless female.

  The tall pines around the shoreline of Eden Lake kept the sky mostly hidden from view. Hannah didn’t realize how dark it had become until she turned onto the main road. The first thing she noticed was the ominous blend of colors above her. The sky was a deep charcoal gray, streaked with dirty yellow. Purplish black storm clouds roiled up from the horizon and they reminded Hannah of a witch’s caldron churning and bubbling with an evil potion. It was the same ugly color combination the artist had used in an oil painting hanging on the wall of Granny’s Attic. It was entitled “Disaster,” and Hannah was heartily sorry she’d remembered that.

  The wind began to pick up as Hannah passed the Quick Stop. She noticed that Ron and Sean had battened down the hatches by taping huge cardboard sheets to the inside of their front windows. They’d never done that before and Hannah turned on the radio to see if there might be a tornado warning in effect.

  At first there was only static and then a faint announcer’s voice that cut in and out. Hannah had only managed to catch the words, “storm” and “century” before a sharp gust of wind caught the side of her truck and caused her to swerve dangerously. Just as she’d righted her heading and maneuvered back into her own lane of traffic, another gust of wind from the opposite direction sent her perilously close to the ditch. Hannah was seriously considering the wisdom of stopping and waiting until the winds had subsided when the decision was taken out of her hands. The wind gusted a third fierce time, snapping off a branch from a giant oak tree by the side of the road and hurtling it through the air, straight toward the front of her truck.

  Hannah cranked the wheel as hard as she could, but there was no avoiding the wooden missile. It crashed into her windshield with a mighty thunk that rattled her truck and then it bounced back off again, taking the radio antenna with it. Hannah hit the brakes and muscled the truck over to the side of the road, pulling to a stop in a churning spume of gravel. By the time she’d stopped shaking and gotten out to assess the situation, the rain was beginning to fall. The branch didn’t seem to have done too much damage, at least none that a bottle of touch-up paint wouldn’t cure, but her radio antenna had snapped off at the base, leaving dangling wires and a hole in her hood where it had been attached.

  “At least I won’t have to listen to the storm warnings,” Hannah muttered, picking up the wires and poking them back through the hole. The antenna was nowhere to be found, but she was sure that Ted Koester would be able to replace it with a new one from his salvage yard. Her windshield was intact and her truck was still running, and those were the important things. She should be able to get the rest of the way home.

  It was only after she’d slid back into the driver’s seat that Hannah realized her blouse and jeans were soaked. There was nothing like driving home in a storm, sopping wet. This was the sort of thing colds were made of and Hannah hated summer colds. She reached into the back of her truck, shoved aside the down pillow that Michelle had picked up for her, and grabbed a towel from the stack she carried for catering. After her hair, face, and hands were dry, she felt much more in charge. This wasn’t so bad. The log hadn’t crashed through the windshield and she wouldn’t melt like sugar just because she was wet. Hannah was preparing to pull back out on the road again when she realized that her passenger’s-side windshield wiper had stopped working altogether and the one on the driver’s side was limping along like a lame duck.

  There was nothing to do but go for it. Sitting here at the side of the road wouldn’t get her anywhere and there was no way she wanted Norman and Mike to find her in this helpless position. Hannah pulled out on the road again, thankful that the rain was light. Her wiper was operating in fits and starts. Every time the wind gusted, it stopped. Hannah inched along in the gathering darkness, hoping that no one would come up behind her at a speedy clip.

  She’d gone only about a quarter of a mile when the rain began to fall harder. The small drops turned into larger drops and then into sheets of pouring rain. Her wiper stuttered with each new gust of wind, locked into a life-or-death battle with the elements. When it seemed certain that the elements would win, Hannah pulled over to the side of the road again and thumped her hand against the steering wheel in frustration.

  “Oh, great!” Hannah groaned, accepting the inevitable. If she wanted to get home, there was only one thing to do. She lowered her window, poked her head out, and drove slowly down the shoulder of the road, listening for upcoming traffic and peering into the driving rain to look for her turnoff.

  It was slow going. Every minute or so, Hannah had to stop to wipe off her face and her hair. She could think of pleasant ways to spend an evening and this wasn’t one of them. If she’d known this was going to happen, she would have encouraged both Norman and Mike to follow her home!

  By the time Hannah reached the turnoff, she felt like a drowned rat. Her hair was hanging in limp strands and her cheeks were raw from the stinging rain. She glanced at her watch and groaned loudly. It was almost an hour since she’d left the lake cottage. Visions of Mike and Norman waiting for her at her condo when she arrived were daunting, and she knew she’d better call to let them know that she was all right.

  The first place Hannah passed was the apartment where Rhonda had lived. She pulled into the garage, parked her truck in a spot designated for visitors, and headed straight for Beatrice and Ted Koester’s apartment. They owned and managed the building and they’d let her use their phone.

  “Hannah!” Beatrice looked shocked when she opened her door in response to Hannah’s knock. “Did your truck break down?”

  “Yes, and no. It’s still running, but the windshield wipers conked out on me. I had to stick my head out the window and that’s why I’m so wet.”

  “Well, don’t just stand there. Come in and dry off.” Beatrice held the door open wider. “I’ll get you a bath towel.”

  Hannah smiled her thanks as she slipped out of her soggy sandals in the hall and padded into Beatrice’s dry apartment. “Could I use your phone? Mother’s waiting for my call and I want to let her know that I’m all right. I promise I’ll try not to drip on anything.”

  “That doesn’t matter.” Beatrice gestured toward the wall phone in the kitche
n. “I was planning on washing the floor tonight anyway. Ted likes a clean home. It’s a nice contrast to all that dirt and grease out at the scrap yard. He makes a good living, though. Especially since he added the auto salvage. Go ahead, Hannah. I’ll get you that towel and a cup of coffee. You look chilled to the bone.”

  Hannah accepted the towel Beatrice brought her and did her best to mop herself off. Then she called the lake cottage and Michelle answered the phone.

  “Hi, Hannah. I’m so glad you’re home. Mike and Norman were beginning to get worried. Hold on a second and I’ll tell them.”

  Hannah opened her mouth to say she wasn’t home, but Michelle had already set the phone down. She could hear her youngest sister talking in the background, conveying the message that Hannah was home and everything was fine.

  “I told them,” Michelle came back on the line. “The storm was pretty fierce out here. Did you run into much rain?”

  “Oh yes,” Hannah said, knowing that she was uttering a gross understatement. The rain was still drumming against Beatrice’s windows with considerable force.

  “Mike and Norman said they’ll call you back. Mother’s car got hit by lightning and the guys are going out to look at it.”

  Hannah thought fast. If Mike or Norman called her back at her apartment, they’d get her answer machine. “Tell them to give me at least forty-five minutes. I’m chilled and I’m going to take a hot shower.”

  “Okay, Hannah. I’ll tell them. I’m really glad you got home okay. We were all worried.”

  “Here, Hannah.” Beatrice presented Hannah with a cup of coffee the moment she’d hung up the phone.

  “Thanks, Beatrice.” Hannah took a sip of the hot brew and sighed gratefully. “This is just what I needed.”

  “The other thing you need is dry clothes. I’d give you some of mine, but I don’t think they’d fit.”

  “Not on a bet.” Hannah laughed. Beatrice was petite, about Michelle’s size.

  “I don’t know…” Beatrice cocked her head to the side and sized Hannah up. “You’ve lost a ton of weight. One of my skirts might be okay, but you’re so much taller.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Beatrice. Now that I’m toweled off, I’ll dry in no time.”

  Beatrice looked doubtful. “You can’t drive the rest of the way home in those wet clothes. You’ll catch your death. How about something of Rhonda’s? Her clothes are still in her closet and she was about your size.”

  “You haven’t rented her apartment?” Hannah was surprised. Beatrice and Ted ran a nice apartment complex and there was always a waiting list of people who wanted to rent from them.

  “I can’t rent it out yet. Rhonda paid me for July. I can take a deposit now, but no one can move in until the beginning of August.”

  “That seems like a waste when you have a waiting list.”

  “I know, but that’s the law. At least I won’t have to work to get it in shape. We put in new carpet and repainted it in June, and Rhonda just finished redecorating. Her place looks wonderful, Hannah. It’s just a shame her relatives don’t want her things.”

  “They don’t?” Hannah was surprised. “What are you going to do with them?”

  “They said to sell her car and send the money to them in Colorado, but we can do whatever we want with the rest. I’m going to rent the place furnished and I’ll let my tenants have first pick on everything else. That’s why I said you should go up there and get something to wear…if you don’t mind wearing her clothes, that is.”

  “Why would I mind wearing something of Rhonda’s?”

  “Because she’s dead. You know, a lot of people are sensitive about things like that.”

  “It doesn’t bother me,” Hannah assured her. She’d hoped to get a peek inside Rhonda’s apartment and this seemed like a gift from the gods.

  “The only thing is, I can’t go up there with you. Ted’s at a meeting and he said he’d call right before he left for home to see if I needed anything. And I do. I want him to stop and pick up some laundry detergent.”

  Even better. Hannah tried not to look too excited. “That’s okay, Beatrice. I can run up to Rhonda’s apartment alone.”

  “Are you sure you don’t mind? I mean, with her being dead and all?”

  “I don’t mind,” Hannah said, taking the key that Beatrice held out. “After all, she didn’t die there. I’ll grab something, put it on, and come right back down with the key.”

  “No hurry. Poke around a little and see if there’s anything you can use. Everything she owned is up for grabs.”

  Hannah took a deep breath as she unlocked the door and stepped inside. She’d never been invited to Rhonda’s apartment and it was little strange to be coming here now. It felt like intruding, but Hannah reminded herself that she had a perfect reason to search through Rhonda’s things for clues since she was trying to solve her murder.

  There was a switch by the inside of the door and Hannah flicked on the lights. Rhonda’s apartment was pretty, like something out of a magazine, with color-coordinated cushions on the couch and a bowl of matching silk flowers on the coffee table. The kitchen was immaculate, but that was no surprise since Rhonda had been intending to leave on vacation.

  First things first, Hannah reminded herself, and she went straight to Rhonda’s walk-in closet. She grabbed the first items of clothing that came to hand, a pair of black slacks with an elastic waistband and a light blue pullover sweater. She wasn’t here to scavenge through Rhonda’s clothing unless it had some bearing on the murder, and anything that was dry would do.

  Hannah dropped her own clothes in a heap on the floor and changed to Rhonda’s. Although the pants were too short, they weren’t as tight as she’d expected them to be and Rhonda’s sweater was positively bulky. Perhaps Beatrice was right and she really had lost a ton of weight. She checked the closet, but it contained nothing unusual and she wasn’t interested in the number of outfits in Rhonda’s wardrobe. Then she tackled the dresser drawers, going from top to bottom as fast as she could. She found a pair of socks to wear, but there was nothing else that could possibly relate to Rhonda’s murder.

  The plastic bags were in a holder under the sink and Hannah stuffed her wet clothing into one of them. Then she went through the cupboards and kitchen drawers, learning nothing except the fact that Rhonda owned a set of sterling silver fish knives and she must have been very fond of packaged macaroni and cheese.

  The living room was next. Hannah headed straight for a small desk that Rhonda had placed under the windows. The center drawer was filled with loose receipts, and she sat down in the desk chair to glance through them.

  Nothing caught Hannah’s interest until she found a receipt from Browerville Travel. Not only had Rhonda driven all the way to Browerville to book her flight, she’d lied to Hannah about where and when she had done it. When they’d signed the house papers at The Cookie Jar, Rhonda had said she’d called the airlines and reserved her ticket the previous evening. She’d also said that thanks to Norman, she had enough money to fly to Rome on vacation. But this receipt from Browerville Travel was dated two weeks before Norman had made his offer on the house!

  Rhonda’s lie didn’t seem to make much sense, but Hannah didn’t have time to think about that now. She grabbed the receipt, stuck it into her purse, and went through the rest of the desk drawers. She was down to the last drawer when she discovered another strange item. It was a letter addressed to Rhonda’s great-aunt.

  “Strange,” Hannah mused, staring down at the letter. This was the only item belonging to Mrs. Voelker that she’d found in Rhonda’s apartment. It must be important if Rhonda had kept it and nothing else. Hannah stuffed it into her purse and stood up. One room left to search and she was through.

  Four minutes later Hannah emerged from Rhonda’s bathroom with a frown on her face. Searching Rhonda’s medicine cabinet and bathroom drawers had been a waste of her time. She’d found nothing except a small fortune in cosmetics and time was growing short. Hannah gr
abbed her things, flicked off the lights, and raced down the stairs to return Beatrice’s key. If she didn’t hurry, she’d have the whole Winnetka Sheriff’s Department and every member of her extended family waiting on her doorstep when she got home.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Five

  H annah got up with a smile the next morning. Since Moishe now had his own down pillow, her neck felt great for the first time in months. It didn’t take long to dress for the Fourth and within the hour, Hannah was in her truck on her way to The Cookie Jar. The weather was gorgeous. Puffy white clouds floated lazily in a bright blue sky and it couldn’t have looked less like rain. After the deluge they’d gotten the previous night, the grass was emerald green and there was a wonderful fresh scent in the air, the same scent candles and room fresheners attempted in vain to duplicate.

  As Hannah drove through town, she noticed that everyone had gone all out for Independence Day with flags, banners, ribbons, and other patriotic items. Even the tall pine that served as the town Christmas tree in Lake Eden Park was decked out with red, white, and blue streamers.

  By seven forty-five, Hannah arrived at her parking spot. She unlocked the back door and stepped inside, sniffing appreciatively as a welcome aroma wafted out to greet her. Lisa had put on the coffee. But where was her car?

  “Happy Fourth, Hannah!” Lisa came in from the coffee shop before Hannah had time to look for her.

  “The same to you. Where’s your car?”

  “I left it down at the Senior Center. Herb gave me a ride here. Pour yourself a cup of coffee and go sit down in the shop. I’m going to make you a low-cal breakfast.”

  The aroma of freshly brewed coffee was enticing and Hannah was only too happy to do as she’d been told. She filled a mug, carried it to her favorite table, and took a seat facing the plate-glass window. The street outside fairly sparkled in the sunlight. Mayor Bascomb had ordered every inch of the parade route swept clean last night. Since the street was roped off, there was no traffic and nothing to watch. It was too early for spectators to gather and the only thing moving was a family of birds in the tall pine across the street.