Cinnamon Roll Murder hsm-16

by Joanne Fluke

  After leaving another roll with Lynnette, Hannah and Michelle went up the corridor, dispensing their delectable wares. When they came to the end, they still had one pan of cinnamon rolls left, and Hannah turned to Michelle. “Why don’t you find the nurses and give them some? A lot of them came in early, and they probably didn’t have time to eat.”

  “Good idea.” Michelle looked down at the cart and assessed the contents. “I think I’ve got enough,” she said.

  “If you don’t, go back to the kitchen and get the cookie bags. That’s why we brought them in. There should be enough to give cookies to everyone in the waiting room.” Michelle turned to go, but Hannah called after her. “Just don’t bring the box with the Sinco de Cocoa Cookies. They’re for later.”

  Hannah watched as Michelle pushed the cart down the hall. After her sister had disappeared around the corner, Hannah stood there in the middle of the corridor, unsure of exactly what to do next. She supposed she could check on Buddy to see if he’d enjoyed his cinnamon roll, or perhaps she could go back to the emergency room to ask Bertie if she needed any help with the patients. She was just considering her options when the decision was made for her.

  “Hannah?” One of the nurses came bustling up. “Your mother wants you. She’s in treatment room seven. By the way, those were great cinnamon rolls.”

  “Thanks,” Hannah said, walking down the hall toward the adjoining corridor. She had no idea what her mother wanted, but it was bound to involve something that would keep her from her condo and her bed when that was the only place she really wanted to be. She turned the corner at the end of the corridor, started down a second corridor that veered off at a ninety degree angle, and spotted Delores about twenty feet ahead, just emerging from one of the treatment rooms.

  “Mother?” Hannah rushed forward to put her arm around her mother as Delores slumped heavily against the wall. Her mother’s complexion was the same color as the all purpose flour that Hannah used at The Cookie Jar, and the makeup on her face stood out in sharp relief.

  “Hannah,” Delores said in a trembling voice. She shook her head as if to clear it and took a deep breath. “I need you, Hannah.”

  Alarm bells went off in Hannah head. Something was drastically wrong. “What is it, Mother? Are you ill?”

  “No.”

  “Then what is it? You’re shaking.”

  “He’s dead,” Delores said, giving a sigh that seemed to go on forever. “I just looked in at him to see if I could bring him anything. And he’s dead!”

  “Are you sure?” Hannah asked, preparing to go in and substantiate her mother’s words.

  “I’m very sure.”

  Hannah gave her mother a little hug. Delores was still shaking, and she looked as if she were about to pass out. “I’m sorry, Mother,” she said in a comforting voice. “I know how hard this must be for you, but people don’t come to the hospital unless there’s something really wrong with them. Some patients are critically ill, and the doctors can’t save them.”

  “I know that. You don’t understand!” Delores stared at her eldest daughter for a moment, and then she shook her head. It appeared to be a massive effort and she took several deep breaths. “You don’t understand!” she repeated.

  Hannah held her mother tighter, afraid that she might faint. This was obviously the first time since Delores had started to do volunteer work at the hospital, that she’d come face-to-face with death. “I think I do understand,” she said. “And I know it’s a shock when a patient dies. It’s terribly sad, but it happens, especially when you work at a hospital. Do you want me to call a nurse?”

  “No.”

  “All right, but you need some help. You’re still shaking and you’re as pale as a ghost. I’d better call Doc Knight.”

  “No, call Mike,” Delores insisted. And then she began to slide downward on the wall, as if her legs were no longer capable of supporting her.

  Hannah couldn’t hold her up, even though she tried. Delores was close to fainting and she was slumping like a rag doll. All Hannah could do was help her sit down on the linoleum floor with her back against the wall. Hannah crouched next to her and patted her mother’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Mother. You’ve going to be okay. I’m going to call Doc Knight to take a look at you.”

  “No! Call Mike!”

  “But ... why should I call Mike?”

  Delores took a deep breath and visibly struggled to compose herself. A little color came back to her complexion, and she turned to give Hannah a glare. “I told you why. He’s dead!”

  Hannah was thoroughly mystified by her mother’s words. Mike was a detective with the sheriff’s department. She didn’t think it was standard hospital procedure to call the sheriff’s department every time one of the patients died.

  “Do it! Call Mike!” Delores insisted again.

  It was fairly clear that her mother’s mind had slipped a cog or two from the shock of discovering the dead patient. Perhaps, if Hannah could encourage Delores to talk about her traumatic experience, the shock would fade and her mother would calm down and think clearly again.

  “All right, Mother,” Hannah said in her most reassuring tone. “I’ll call Mike, but first I need some information from you. Do you know the patient’s name?”

  “Of course I do. I looked at his chart the moment I came in. We’re supposed to do that. It’s more personal if we call the patients by name. And then I looked at him, and ...” Delores stopped speaking and shuddered. “His name was Buddy Neiman.”

  “Buddy Neiman?! Are you sure?” Hannah was so shocked, it took a moment for it to sink.

  “That’s what it said on his chart.”

  “But I brought Buddy a cinnamon roll just a couple of minutes ago! The technician was wheeling him out of X-ray, and he said it was just a bad sprain. He was going to take Buddy to a treatment room to wait for someone to put a splint on his wrist. They wanted him to keep it immobile for a day or two. Once the splint was on, he could leave the hospital.” Hannah began to frown. “Are you absolutely sure the patient was Buddy Neiman?”

  “I’m sure. I remember thinking it was strange that he didn’t use his full name. Usually Buddy is a nickname. He’s dead, Hannah. I told you that.”

  “But the only thing wrong with him was a sprained wrist. Nobody dies from a sprained wrist!”

  “That’s true,” Delores said, “but he didn’t die from a sprained wrist. He died from the pair of surgical scissiors somebody buried in his chest. Call Mike!”

  Chapter Six

  Hannah sat at the round table in the hospital kitchen, the one the cooks used for their coffee breaks, waiting for her mother and sisters to join her. It was almost ten at night, and everyone who’d been admitted to the hospital was resting comfortably. Those who’d been treated and discharged were on their way home. Dick Laughlin had driven in with the Lake Eden Inn van to pick up the surviving members of the Cinnamon Roll Six and their entourage and Hannah had no doubt that Sally had given them a hot meal and shown them to their rooms.

  It was snowing again, and Hannah stared out at the scene outside the kitchen window. Doc Knight had built his hospital in a lovely wooded area of Eden Lake’s shore. Every one of the rooms for patients had a view of the pines and the lake because Doc believed that hospitals should be designed to make the patients comfortable and relaxed.

  The outside of the hospital was illuminated by what the farmers in the area called yard lights. They were bright lights on tall poles that lit up the surrounding countryside. Doc’s lights didn’t seem to bother the wildlife around the lake. Patients who didn’t draw their drapes could catch glimpses of deer browsing in the woods, raccoons scurrying across the snow, and an occasional porcupine waddling between the trees. Birds of every color and size flitted here and there, and others perched on the tree branches. If you had to be in the hospital, this was the nicest one Hannah had ever seen. It was no wonder that Freddy Sawyer was so happy living and working here.

  Hannah caught s
ight of her reflection and frowned. She really ought to get her hair trimmed. It was a mass of unruly red curls that could not be tamed, and usually sent hairdressers running for the hills. Her face looked fuller and she knew that wasn’t due to an imperfection in the glass windowpane. She’d gained a little weight after losing so much last year when she’d gone undercover at the spa in the mall to investigate a murder case. She was five feet eight inches tall, and that meant she could carry more weight than her shorter sisters. But her jeans were starting to feel tight around the waist and she knew she was doing what Delores lived in fear of doing. She was letting herself go.

  She really should pay more attention to her personal appearance. It would help to wear clothes that were slimming, rather than shapeless and comfortable. She could get a new, flattering hairstyle, and while she was there at the beauty salon, she could learn the basics of makeup. But when could she find time do all this? She rarely got more than five or six hours sleep, and she didn’t want to give up an hour of sleep time just to look more attractive. Her customers in her coffee shop and bakery were used to her just the way she was.

  The wind whipped up loose snow and pelted it against the windowpane. Hannah jumped and immediately felt a little foolish, but it was an eerie sound made even more chilling by coming at the heels of murder right here in the hospital.

  It was a big relief when the kitchen doors opened to admit Delores, Michelle, and Andrea. Hannah got them settled with cups of fresh coffee and motioned for Michelle to get the box of special cookies they’d stashed in a cupboard.

  “Here, Mother. Have one of these,” Michelle said, opening the box of Sinco de Cocoa Cookies.

  “Thank you, but no. I’m not hungry.”

  “Come on, Mother,” Hannah urged, pushing the cookie box closer so that her mother could catch a whiff of the tantalizing scent. “It’ll help, I promise. Just try one, okay?”

  “Chocolate?” Delores asked. And when Hannah nodded, she reached for a cookie.

  “They’re double chocolate,” Hannah told her. “These cookies have chocolate chips and more chocolate in the dough. Down the hatch, Mother. I have three dozen in the box and they’re going to go fast.”

  “You’re right,” Andrea said, reaching for a cookie. As usual, the third Swensen sister was dressed fashionably and oh-so-appropriately for a night helping her siblings at the hospital. Her light blond hair was fashioned in an intricate braid that was formed into a circle very like a chignon, and her makeup was flawless. She wore a soft pink sweater, grey tailored slacks, gray leather shoes that matched them perfectly, and the string of pearls her husband Bill had given her for Christmas two years ago.

  “What do you think, Mother?” Michelle asked, noticing that Delores had finished her cookie.

  “I think they’re just what I need. And I think I’ll have another. Please hand me one, will you, dear?”

  “Ready?” Michelle asked, inserting the key in the lock on Hannah’s condo door, but not opening it.

  “I’m ready.” Hannah stood several feet in front of the door, her legs spread out a bit for balance.

  “How about Cuddles? Does she do it, too?”

  “Not yet. I’m hoping she doesn’t learn it from Moishe. I don’t know if I can handle two cats at once.”

  “Here goes.” Michelle opened the door and stood to the side to make room for the orange and white blur that leaped out and hurtled into Hannah’s waiting arms.

  “Oof!” Hannah said quite involuntarily. “I think he’s gotten heavier.”

  “You could weigh him to see. Just stand on the scale with him in your arms. And then put him down and weigh yourself.”

  “Not a good idea.” Hannah walked into her living room and set her cat down in one of his favorite places. Moishe loved to sit on the back of the couch and peer through the living room window.

  “Why isn’t it a good idea?”

  “Because I don’t want to weigh myself. And if I want to find out how much Moishe weighs, I’ll have to do it.”

  “Oh.” Michelle walked over to the arm of the couch where Cuddles, a much smaller grey tabby, was sitting. “Hi, Cuddles,” she said, giving her a scratch under the chin. “When’s Mike coming over? And shall we feed him?”

  “I think we’d better. He made a point of telling me he didn’t have time to eat dinner.”

  “Good. I’m hungry, too.”

  “But you had a cinnamon roll and four cookies,” Hannah reminded her.

  “I know, but now I need something substantial, something with meat, something really good. What shall we make?” Michelle hung her coat in the closet, rubbed Moishe’s ears as she walked by, and headed to the kitchen.

  “I don’t know.” Hannah followed her.

  “Then let’s see what you’ve got, and maybe it’ll give us some ideas.”

  “I doubt it. I’ve been so busy, I haven’t been to the Red Owl for at least a week.”

  “I can see that,” Michelle said, surveying the nearly empty refrigerator shelves. “Do you have any hamburger?”

  “I think there’s some in the freezer.” Hannah opened the door to look. “Here’s a one-pound package of lean ground beef. Will that do?”

  “It’s perfect. Let’s thaw it right in the frying pan.”

  “Okay. I’ll put it on.” Hannah got out a frying pan, unwrapped the frozen hamburger and plunked it in, covered the pan and turned the burner on medium heat. “What are we making?”

  “I don’t have a name for it yet. Do you have any frozen veggies?”

  Hannah went back to the freezer and looked. “Broccoli, cauliflower, frozen chopped onions, and a bag of peas and carrots.”

  “Is that last one a mix?”

  “Yes. It’s the kind with green peas and carrots cut in little cubes.”

  “Great! I need a cup.”

  Hannah carried the bags to the counter. She opened the peas and carrots, poured out a cup for Michelle, and put a twist tie on the bag. “How many chopped onions do you need?”

  “Forty-seven.”

  “What?” Hannah paused, the open bag of onions in her hand.

  “Just kidding. Take out a quarter cup or so. I don’t think that proportions will be that critical.”

  Hannah measured the onions, twist tied the bag closed, and put the bags back into the freezer. “You have a recipe for whatever you’re making, don’t you?”

  Michelle laughed. “Not really. I’m winging it.”

  “What kind of meal do you think it’ll be?”

  “A hamburger bake. I do bakes every week or so at college. Most of the time they turn out to be good. If they’re not, we just smother them in ketchup and eat them anyway.”

  Hannah began to smile. Michelle was turning out to be a real Minnesota cook, using whatever was in the refrigerator, freezer, or pantry and coming up with her own dish. “Do you want the onions in the frying pan with the hamburger?” she asked.

  “Yes. Do you have any canned soup?”

  Hannah added the frozen onions to her frying pan. “I’m pretty low on canned soup. I was going to pick some up last week, but I forgot.” She opened the cupboard door and surveyed her canned goods. “I’ve got split pea, cream of asparagus, and cheddar cheese. Will any of those work for you?”

  “Sure. I’ll take the cheddar cheese. It’s condensed, right?”

  “That’s right. You have to add milk.”

  “We will, but not as much as it calls for. Do you have a quarter cup of milk?”

  “I’m sure I do. And if it’s too old to use, I’ve got a can of evaporated milk.”

  “That’ll do. I think I saw half a package of shredded cheese in the meat drawer. Will you check to see what kind it is?”

  Hannah went to the refrigerator while Michelle flipped the hamburger and onions. “It’s cheddar,” she reported.

  “Great. Do you know how to make a biscuit crust from scratch?”

  “I think I can handle that. Do you want it now?”

  “Start it n
ow, and I’ll watch the hamburger. We need to use the biscuit dough as a bottom crust in the cake pan.”

  “I like that. And then the hamburger, onions, veggies, and cheddar cheese soup go on top of it?”

  “Right. It’s all mixed up together and then the shredded cheese goes on top of that. It should look nice, and I bet it’ll taste good too.”

  The two sisters worked in companionable silence for several minutes. Then Michelle gave a long, drawn-out sigh.

  “What is it?” Hannah asked her.

  “I was thinking about Norman. You two made such a nice couple. I know you like Mike. I like him, too. But I always kind of hoped that you and Norman would get married. And now it won’t ever happen. Because of her! She’s going to make sure he never sees you again. She’s holding that daughter of hers over his head like a carrot!”

  Or like an albatross, Hannah thought, swallowing past the lump in her throat. The last time she’d been alone with Norman, the day he told her about the daughter he had, he’d looked so miserable it had almost broken her heart. “It’s a very sad situation,” she said, trying to be charitable. “I’m sure she has her daughter’s best interests at heart. And I know Norman wants to do the right thing by Diana.”

  “Is it the right thing? But maybe Diana’s not Norman’s daughter. Maybe she just said that so she could latch on to a nice successful guy who wouldn’t even question it.”

  These same thoughts had been running through Hannah’s mind lately, but she didn’t want to talk about it now. It was too late. The die was cast. Norman was going to marry Doctor Bev, and that was that.

  The phone rang to disrupt Hannah’s unhappy thoughts, and she hurried to answer it. It didn’t really matter who was on the other end of the line. She was grateful for the interruption. “Hello?”

  “It’s me, Hannah,” Andrea said in a voice that was little more than a whisper.

  “Andrea? What’s wrong with your voice?”

  “I don’t want Bill to hear me. He’s upstairs changing his clothes to go back to the sheriff’s station.”