by Joanne Fluke
“Yes, it did. Lonnie was really interested in the psychology of murder and he even sat in on a couple of classes with me.”
“Did you learn anything that would apply to Tori’s murder case?” Norman asked.
“Not really. But I did learn something about myself that I hadn’t known before.”
Hannah winced slightly. “That you’re capable of murder?”
“That certainly. Everyone is, given the right circumstances. But I also learned that I don’t want to understand a killer’s mindset.” She stopped and gave a little shiver. “It’s really frightening. I hoped that by taking the class, I’d learn something that could help Hannah in her next investigation.” Michelle turned to Hannah. “Where are you now, Hannah? Maybe if we talk about it, Norman and I could help you.”
Hannah pulled the shorthand notebook from her purse and flipped to the suspect page. “Two suspects left,” she told them. “One is Tori’s business manager and the other is the man with the black tennis shoes and silver laces. That’s it. I’ve eliminated everyone else.”
“You always do that,” Norman pointed out.
“I know, but I haven’t found any new suspects to replace them.”
“Dig deeper,” Norman advised.
“Dig deeper?” Hannah repeated, wishing she could do exactly that. “But there don’t seem to be any other suspects on the horizon.”
Her cell phone rang, interrupting her thoughts, and Hannah glanced down at the display. Ross was calling!
“I have to take his call,” Hannah said, getting up with more energy than she’d exhibited all day, and heading for the pantry. “I’m . . . uh . . . I’m going to see if we’ve got any dried cherries so we can try those Cheery Cherry Cookies.”
“Hold on, Ross. I’m here.” Hannah said, ducking into the pantry for privacy. “Did you get a chance to go over to the business management firm that Tori used?”
“I just came from there, Cookie.” Ross said, sounding very far away.
“Where are you?” Hannah asked, noticing the hollow tone in Ross’s voice.
“I’m in the subway. The connection’s not that good so let me tell you fast before I lose you. His name is Roger Ainsley and he didn’t do it.”
“Really? How do you know that?”
“Because I got in to see the head of the firm. Roger is his second in command and he’s in the Bahamas for his oldest daughter’s wedding.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m positive. He showed me a photo that Roger’s wife sent of Roger walking his daughter down the aisle. The photo was time stamped and it was a night wedding at eight o’clock last Saturday. And that was the night that Tori was killed, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, it was.” Hannah sighed heavily.
“Even considering the time difference, Roger couldn’t have been in Lake Eden. It’s impossible.”
“Thank you, Ross. I’ll put Roger Ainsley’s name on my suspect list and cross him off immediately. I really appreciate this. I want you to know that.”
“Anything you need, Cookie, and I’m there for you.”
“And I’m here for anything you need,” Hannah said quickly.
“That’s great, but what I’m thinking about can wait until I get back home.”
Hannah started to blush, even though she wasn’t precisely sure what Ross was thinking about. But his next comment set her back on her heels.
“I want one of those Banana Cream Pies. Will you bake one for me and have it ready when I come home?”
“Of course I will!” Hannah felt like laughing at the direction her mind had been taking. “It’ll be right there in the refrigerator.”
“I can hardly wait. I should be home tomorrow night. P.K. and I have to get a clip of Michelle’s pie eating contest on Saturday for the evening news. I ran it past the president of the station and he said it was a go.”
“Wonderful! I’ve missed you, Ross.”
“And I’ve missed you.”
“Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Yes. I overnighted some footage to you. Feel free to watch it if you want to, but be sure to keep it for me.”
“Okay. I’ll watch it and keep it for you.”
“I sent it FedEx and it should arrive at the condo by ten tomorrow morning. Will you alert one of your neighbors to take it in? I wouldn’t want to lose it.”
“I’ll stay home and wait for it. Michelle can take my place at The Cookie Jar.”
“Are you sure? I could always get someone from the station to drive out and sit on the steps until it comes.”
“It won’t be a problem, Ross. There are some things I need to do at home anyway, and that’ll give me a chance to get them done.”
“Okay, then. I’ll see you on Friday night, Cookie. It’ll probably be eight o’clock or so when I get there.”
“That’s okay. I’ll be at the condo with your pie.”
“I love you, Cookie.”
“I love you, too.” Hannah listened to the click as Ross hung up and suddenly she felt bereft. She missed him so much. She brushed a tear from her eye and then she squared her shoulders and snatched a bag of dried cherries from the shelf.
When Hannah emerged from the pantry, she found Norman and Michelle deep in conversation at the workstation.
“Ask her,” Michelle prompted.
“Okay,” Norman said, turning to Hannah. “I have a proposition for you, Hannah.”
“What’s that?” Hannah took a sip of her coffee, which was lukewarm, and munched one of the cookies that Michelle had just brought to the workstation.
“I’d like to take the Swensen sisters out to dinner tonight. Andrea and Michelle have already accepted.”
Hannah smiled at him. “Then so do I. Thank you, Norman. That would be lovely.”
“I’ll drive,” Norman offered. “Then you’ll all get a real night out. I told Andrea that I’d pick her up at seven, so shall I pick you and Michelle up at six-thirty?”
“That’ll be perfect!” Hannah said, still smiling at the thought of a night out with Norman and her sisters.
* * *
After Norman left, Michelle picked up the bag of dried cherries. “Are you going to plump these?”
“I think we should. They’ll be juicier that way. I considered using bourbon, but if we’re going to serve them here in the coffee shop, maybe we’d better use maraschino cherry juice. I was planning to put a maraschino cherry half on top of each cookie anyway.”
“That’s always pretty,” Michelle agreed. “Let’s come up with a recipe and try it right now. And if it works, we can give some to Norman and Andrea tonight.”
“Okay.” Hannah glanced up at the clock. “We’ve got two hours before the coffee shop closes. We could probably finish one batch and test them out on the customers that are here.”
“That’s a good idea. They love to test recipes for you. Let’s bake, Hannah! This is going to be fun!”
CHEERY CHERRY COOKIES
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position.
1 cup dried cherries (or cherry-flavored Craisins) large jar of maraschino cherries without stems
1 cup white (granulated) sugar
1 cup brown sugar (pack it down in the cup when you measure it)
1 cup salted butter, softened to room temperature (2 sticks, 8 ounces, ½ pound)
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon almond extract
2 large eggs
2 and ½ cups all-purpose flour (not sifted—pack it down in the measuring cup)
½ cup finely chopped blanched almonds (those are the white ones without brown skins)
¼ cup maraschino cherry juice
2 cups Cheerios
1 to 2 cups white chocolate or vanilla baking chips
Place the dried cherries in a microwave-safe bowl.
Drain off the juice from the jar of maraschino cherries an
d pour ¼ cup of it over the dried cherries in the bowl. Reserve the rest of the cherry juice for later.
Place the bowl in the microwave and heat the dried cherries and juice on HIGH for 90 seconds. Let the bowl sit in the microwave for an additional 90 seconds and then take it out and set it on the kitchen counter.
Stir the dried cherries so the juice is evenly distributed. Then cover the bowl with aluminum foil and let it sit on the counter.
Hannah’s Note: You can mix this cookie dough by hand, but it’s a lot easier with an electric mixer.
Place the white sugar and the brown sugar in the bowl of an electric mixer. Mix them together on LOW speed until they’re a uniform color.
Add the softened butter and beat on MEDIUM speed until the sugars and the butter are thoroughly combined.
Increase the speed of your mixer and beat for another minute.
Add the baking soda, salt, vanilla extract, and almond extract. Mix them in thoroughly.
Add the eggs, one by one, beating after each addition.
Add the flour, a half cup at a time, beating after each addition.
Mix in the finely chopped almonds.
Feel the bowl with the dried cherries and juice. If it’s not so hot it’ll cook the eggs, drain off the juice and throw that juice away.
Measure out ¼ cup of the rest of the reserved cherry juice and add it to your mixing bowl. Mix it in until it’s thoroughly combined.
Place the 2 cups of Cheerios in a Ziploc plastic bag. Crush them with a rolling pin or your hands until the pieces resemble coarse gravel.
Add the crushed Cheerios to your bowl, along with the white chocolate chips. Mix everything up thoroughly.
Scrape down the bowl and take it out of the mixer. Then give the bowl another stir by hand.
Pat the cherries dry with a paper towel and add them to your mixing bowl. Mix them in by hand.
Let the dough sit on the counter for a minute or two to rest while you prepare your cookie sheets.
Spray your cookie sheets with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray. Alternatively, line them with parchment paper.
Form the dough into walnut-sized balls with your fingers and place them on the cookie sheets, 12 to a standard sheet.
Cut the maraschino cherries in two and press one half, rounded side up, on the top of each unbaked cookie.
Bake one test cookie at 350 degrees F. for 10 to 12 minutes or until nicely browned on top. If the test cookie spreads out too much on the cookie sheet, either chill the dough in the refrigerator before baking, or turn the dough out on a floured board and knead in approximately ⅓ cup more flour.
When the dough is the proper consistency, bake your cookies at 350 degrees F. for 10 to 12 minutes. Remove from the oven and cool on the cookie sheet for 2 minutes, and then remove the cookies to a wire rack until they’re completely cool. (The rack is important—it makes them crisp.)
Yield: approximately 5 to 6 dozen delicious, crunchy cookies, depending on cookie size.
Chapter Twenty-two
There was a light on in her bedroom. She could see it despite the fact that her eyes were closed. Someone had turned on the light . . . but there was no lamp on that side of the bed. There was only the window and . . .
Hannah woke up with a start to see sunlight streaming in her bedroom window. She felt herself begin to panic. What time was it? Was she late for work? Where was Michelle?!
One glance at the alarm clock on her bedside table confirmed that she had, indeed, overslept. It was seven in the morning and she should have been up at four!
Hannah jumped out of bed, thrust her arms into her robe, and pulled on her slippers. There was a delicious smell coming from the kitchen, something that reminded her of Thanksgiving. Michelle must be baking. But why hadn’t she come in to wake her?
Hurrying down the carpeted hallway, Moishe at her heels, Hannah arrived at the origin of the delicious scent quite breathless.
The kitchen was deserted. Michelle was nowhere in sight. There were, however, at least a dozen aromatic scones resplendent on a wire rack on her kitchen counter. Michelle had been there. Michelle had baked. But where was she now?
A note was propped up by the sugar bowl. Hannah poured herself a quick cup of coffee and carried it to the kitchen table. When she got there, she sat down and grabbed the note.
Glad you got some sleep, Hannah, the note said. Lisa picked me up and we’re down at The Cookie Jar. Take your time. Everything’s under control. I know you’re expecting a FedEx package from Ross this morning, so Lisa and I won’t expect you until noon or later.
The scones on the counter are pumpkin with cinnamon glaze. I thought they’d be great to serve to your customers right before Thanksgiving. Let me know what you think. I put two in the microwave when I took them out of the oven. Unless you sleep until noon, they’re probably still warm.
See you when you get to work. I love you. And the note was signed,
Michelle
Hannah folded the note and put it back on the table. She had a sip of coffee, took a deep breath of the sweet-smelling air, and smiled. Michelle was amazing. She had more energy than Hannah ever remembered having in her entire life. And that last sentence was the nicest part of the note. Michelle had written, I love you. Her sister’s affection made Hannah feel both blessed and very grateful.
The delicious scent of the scones drew Hannah like a magnet to the microwave where Michelle had said that there were two scones waiting for her. She opened the microwave door, took out the scones, and gave a big smile. They were still nice and warm.
There was a dish of butter on the table, so Hannah wasted no time in breaking open the scones and buttering them. She took the first bite, made a little mewling sound of intense delight, and sighed in enjoyment. Michelle’s scones were delicious, a perfect combination of spice and sweet with the fresh, almost nutty flavor of pumpkin.
After her third cup of coffee, Hannah was ready to start her day. She was about to go into the beautifully remodeled master bathroom when she realized that it was already ten minutes before eight. What time did they start to deliver FedEx packages? Hannah wasn’t sure. She was certain, however, that she wouldn’t hear the doorbell ring if the package from Ross came while she was in the shower. What if she had to sign for the package? She hadn’t thought to ask Ross about that. Ten minutes before eight would be ten minutes before nine in New York. She couldn’t call him now. He was probably in the middle of one of the interviews he was doing today.
It was decision time for Hannah. She could rush through her shower and be dressed in ten minutes. She’d showered that fast before. But if she did that, she wouldn’t have time to enjoy the incredible massaging jets that would erase the ache in her back and ease the tension in the back of her neck. It would be better to wait until she could enjoy the full benefit of the wonderful new shower.
Feeling a bit like a lazy housewife, Hannah decided to wait to shower and dress. She carried a fresh cup of coffee to the couch, set it on the coffee table, and sat down in one of the rocking and reclining leather chairs that were part of their new group of sofas.
The morning inactivity seemed very strange to Hannah as she sat there, sipping her coffee. It was comfortable and it was nice, but she felt as if she should be doing something productive. She supposed she could bake, but what if the package came at the exact time her cookies were ready to come out of the oven? The cookies might burn in the time it would take her to open the door, sign for the package, and bring it inside. She’d be better off just sitting and waiting . . . but that was something she was loathe to do. There just had to be something she could do with her time that would be useful and constructive.
She was just debating the wisdom of cleaning out the refrigerator when the doorbell rang. She jumped up and came very close to running to answer its summons. She opened the door without bothering to look through the peephole, expecting to see a uniformed FedEx delivery person, and she gave a little cry of surprise when she saw who was stan
ding on the landing. “Mike!” Hannah gasped. “What are you doing here?”
“That’s not exactly a welcoming greeting,” Mike said, but the corners of his mouth were twitching with humor. “I thought I’d come by to keep you company since Michelle said you were home waiting for a package.”
“Uh . . . sure. Come in, Mike.” Hannah was acutely aware that she was still in her nightclothes and robe. “I just made a fresh pot of coffee if you want some.”
“Wait a second,” Mike said as Hannah turned and headed for the kitchen. “If you’re waiting for FedEx, I saw a truck pull into the guest parking lot while I was walking up the stairs.”
The words were no sooner out of Mike’s mouth than Hannah’s doorbell rang again.
She rushed to answer it, but Mike stopped her. “The peephole, Hannah. You’ve got to get into that habit.”
“Right,” Hannah said, looking through the peephole with its fisheye lens to see a highly distorted figure in a FedEx uniform. “Coming!” she called out, releasing the deadbolt and opening the door.
“Hannah?” the deliveryman asked after glancing down at the electronic device he was carrying.
“Yes, that’s me. Is it from Ross Barton in New York?”
“R. Barton, yes,” the deliveryman confirmed, turning the device around and pointing to a box that had appeared on the screen. “Sign here, please.”
Hannah took the stylus he handed her and signed, remembering to use her married name, Hannah Barton.
