Apple Turnover Murder

by Joanne Fluke

  Her coffee mug was empty. Hannah got up to refill it and returned to her perusal of the names on her list. Their strongest suspect to date was Tim Pearson. Bradford had claimed Tim’s work as his own and then failed to keep his end of their bargain. Hannah couldn’t blame Tim for putting such a permanent end to their academic relationship. Unfortunately, murder was unpleasant, immoral, and illegal, even in the hallowed halls of higher learning.

  With the exception of Tim, there was only one other person on Hannah’s list, the one who appeared on every one of her suspect lists. It was Suspect U, the unidentified suspect who’d murdered the victim for an unknown motive.

  Hannah was sitting there, staring down at the two suspects she’d hadn’t crossed out when Lisa came in from the coffee shop.

  “Marguerite Hollenbeck’s here to see you,” she announced. “She says she has cookies for you.”

  Hannah was always glad to see one of her neighbors from the condo complex, but this was a neighbor bearing cookies. Wasn’t that a little like taking coals to Newcastle, or to put it in more modern parlance, bringing a picnic to a restaurant?

  “Shall I send her back to see you?” Lisa asked.

  “Yes, please.”

  “Good. I can hardly wait to hear about her cookies.”

  Hannah was still trying to come up with the best simile when Marguerite came into the kitchen. “Hi, Marguerite. Lisa said you brought cookies for me?”

  “Yes. You probably think it’s like bringing a Holy Bible to a minister, but these are special cookies.”

  Marguerite had out-similied her with her church reference. Hannah fetched them both coffee from the kitchen pot, and they sat down at the workstation. Marguerite was smiling and Hannah knew precisely how her mother would describe it in Regency terms. It was the smile of the cat that had got into the cream pot. “What makes them special?” Hannah asked the question that Marguerite was obviously waiting to hear.

  “They’re Watermelon Cookies.”

  “What?!”

  “They’re Watermelon Cookies. Remember that night in our garage when you were pacing back and forth, trying to come up with a recipe, and I came home from church?”

  “I remember,” Hannah said, relieved that Marguerite had never figured out the real reason she’d been in the garage. She’d been meeting with Mike, who’d been pulled off a murder case, to listen to his advice on solving the crime. If they’d been caught, Mike would have been severely reprimanded. Hannah had used the first excuse she could think of when Marguerite had heard her talking to someone. Instead of admitting she’d been talking to Mike, she’d said she was talking to herself, trying to work out a recipe for watermelon cookies.

  “I mentioned that to my friend, Brandi Archer, when she called me from Chicago. I said I told you I didn’t think watermelon cookies would be very good anyway, and she said she had a recipe for watermelon cookies and they were delicious. Of course I asked for the recipe. It came in the mail yesterday, and I baked them this morning for you.”

  “That’s really sweet of you,” Hannah said, vowing never to admit that her story had been a complete fabrication. “Are they good?”

  “I think they’re excellent. Try one and see what you think.”

  With that said, Marguerite lifted the lid of the box to expose its contents. Nestled there in wax paper were several dozen pink cookies.

  “They’re pretty,” Hannah said, and then she reached out for one. Although she agreed with Marguerite’s initial assessment that watermelon cookies couldn’t possibly be good, her neighbor had gone to all this trouble and she simply had to try one.

  Marguerite continued to smile her smile as Hannah bit into the cookie. She waited until Hannah had taken the second bite, and then she said, “What do you think of them?”

  “Good!” Hannah said, completely shocked at the layers of flavor she’d just experienced. “Crisp like a sugar cookie, sweet and satisfying, and they taste like sun-ripened watermelon.” She stopped and took another bite, swallowed, and asked the important question. “How did you do that?”

  “Watermelon Kool-Aid. Brandi said you can make them in any flavor. She’s really fond of lime. Would you like the recipe?”

  “I’d love to have the recipe. Are they difficult to make?”

  “Not at all. You have to roll them out like Christmas cookies, but that’s not hard. And you have to be careful not to let them brown. Brandi warned me not to overbake them.” Marguerite opened her purse and pulled out a recipe card. “I copied the recipe for you. Are you going to bake them here for The Cookie Jar?”

  “Does Reverend Knudson stand behind a pulpit?” Hannah asked, making up her own church reference on the spot.

  Marge and Patsy were waiting on customers, Lisa was handling the cash register, and Hannah was in the kitchen feeling like a fifth wheel when there was a knock at the back door.

  “Hi, Hannah,” Michelle said when she opened it. “I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Tim Pearson. Tim and I are dying for coffee.”

  “You’ve come to the right place.” Hannah opened the door a bit wider and motioned them in. She poured them coffee while they took seats at the workstation, and then she asked, “Cookies?”

  “I’ve heard about your cookies,” Tim said. “I’ve been meaning to get here, but I’ve been so busy, I haven’t had a chance.”

  “How about something with chocolate?” Michelle suggested, and Hannah noticed that Tim’s face lit up in a smile. Another chocoholic. She liked him already.

  Hannah turned around to look at the contents of the baker’s rack. “I’ve got Triplet Chiplets.”

  “Perfect!” Michelle turned to Tim. “You’re really going to love these cookies. It’ll give you another reason to celebrate.”

  Hannah delivered the cookies and picked up Michelle’s cue. “What are you celebrating, Tim?”

  “My new job as assistant professor in the English department at Lake Eden Community College. I found out on the way here with Michelle. Professor Sidwell called me on my cell phone to tell me that the selection committee had reconsidered and I got the job.”

  “Good for you!” Hannah said.

  “It’s all because Professor Sidwell stuck up for me. You have no idea how depressed I was when he called me on Wednesday afternoon to tell me that I’d lost the job to Tiffany. What he didn’t tell me was that he was going to pull Tiffany’s academic records and reconvene the committee. I think he didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

  Michelle turned to Hannah. “Poor Tim was so upset after Professor Sidwell’s call on Wednesday, he drove to Minneapolis to be with his fiancée. They had dinner with her parents that night and Tim stayed over until the next morning. I talked to Judy on the phone right after Tim called to give her the good news, and she was really excited. She told me that both of them had been really sad on Wednesday night because they thought they’d have to wait to get married.”

  “I’m really happy everything worked out for you, Tim.” Hannah said, catching on to the fact that Michelle had checked out Tim’s alibi with Judy.

  “Tim starts teaching fall session, and the wedding’s set for the middle of August,” Michelle told her. “Professor Sidwell’s sure he can find a job for Judy at the college.”

  “Wonderful!” Hannah said, giving Tim a warm smile as she went to get him two more cookies. She’d known from the get-go he wasn’t the killer. Anyone who finished two chocolate cookies in less than a minute couldn’t possibly be capable of murder.

  She was just crossing Tim’s name off her suspect list when her sister barreled through the door separating the kitchen from the coffee shop. “This is it!” she said. “I’m finished!”

  Hannah took one look at her usually immaculate sister and knew chocolate was in order. Andrea’s eyes were wild, her hair was escaping the neat French knot she’d fashioned at the nape of her neck, and she’d chewed her lipstick half off. Since Andrea would never appear in public this way unless she were dying or a crisis was on the
horizon, Hannah led her to a stool at the workstation, poured her a soothing cup of coffee, and set a whole plate of Brownies Plus within easy reach.

  Andrea reached for a brownie and ate it. And then she reached for another. Hannah waited until her sister had eaten three of the chocolate-laden cookie bars before she asked her question. “What’s wrong, Andrea?”

  “It’s Tachyon. They’re ruining my life!”

  “They offered Bill an even better deal?” Hannah guessed.

  “Yes! Those…those home wreckers! Those family breaker-uppers! Those…” Andrea stopped and gave a shuddering sigh. “I just don’t know what to do, Hannah. I can’t fight this kind of thing.”

  “What kind of thing?”

  “What they offered Bill this time. They said that if I didn’t want to move, they’d fly him back home every other weekend so he could spend time with us. They promised him first-class tickets and a car service to drive him to and from the airports.”

  “Oh boy, do they want him!” Hannah breathed.

  “I know! I just don’t know how he can resist something like this. It’s really an incredible job offer.”

  Hannah thought about it for a minute. “You’re right. It is an incredible offer. What is Bill going to do?”

  “I don’t know. He told them he’d give them his decision by Monday. I think he’s going to take it, Hannah. I really do!”

  “Without consulting you?”

  “Of course not. He did consult me and I told him to do what he thought was best for all of us. What else could I say? He knows how I feel about moving.”

  “You’ve done all you can,” Hannah said, reaching out to touch her sister’s hand. “But…”

  “What?” Andrea asked, noticing Hannah’s frown.

  “I’m not sure, but…” Hannah stopped to think about it for another moment. “There’s something wrong. I’m sure of it. It’s not that Bill isn’t worth all these perks. It’s just that…”

  “What?” Andrea interrupted, leaning forward.

  “It’s just that no big company should offer that much for a single employee. Sure, Bill’s qualified, but there must be other qualified people who’d jump at the opportunity. Did you or Bill think to check them out to see if the offers he’s getting are legitimate?”

  “No, but they’ve been calling him for over a week now. They must be serious.”

  “Has Bill ever called them back?”

  “I…I don’t think so. I think they’re always the ones to call him.” Andrea stopped and began to frown. “What do you think is going on?”

  “I’m not sure. The question I’d be asking is, Is Tachyon really calling Bill? And if the answer is no, I’d be asking, Who could be playing this kind of horrid joke on Bill, and why are they doing it?”

  Andrea sat back and looked dazed. She was silent for several long moments. “You could be right. We never thought of anything like that.”

  “Have Bill call Tachyon and see if they’ve called him.”

  “I’ll run out to the station to see him right now!” Andrea exclaimed, jumping up from her stool. “Have I ever told you what a great sister you are?”

  Hannah smiled. “Yes, but I never get tired of hearing it.”

  WATERMELON COOKIES

  Preheat oven to 325 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

  1 package (.16-ounce) watermelon (or any other flavor) Kool-Aid powder (Don’t get the kind with sugar or sugar substitute added.)

  1 and 2/3 cup white (granulated) sugar

  1 and ¼ cups softened butter (2 and ½ sticks, 10 ounces)

  2 large eggs, beaten (just whip them up in a glass with a fork)

  ½ teaspoon salt

  1 teaspoon baking soda

  3 cups all-purpose flour (pack it down in the cup when you measure it)

  ½ cup white (granulated) sugar in a bowl

  Hannah’s 1stNote: When Brandi makes these cookies, she rolls them out on a floured board and uses cookie cutters. Rolled cookies take more time than other types of cookies, so Lisa and I modified Brandi’s recipe for use at The Cookie Jar.

  Mix the watermelon Kool-Aid with the granulated sugar.

  Add the softened butter and mix until it’s nice and fluffy.

  Add the eggs and mix well.

  Mix in the salt and the baking soda. Make sure they’re well incorporated.

  Add the flour in half-cup increments, mixing after each addition.

  Spray cookie sheets with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray. You can also use parchment paper if you prefer.

  Roll dough balls one inch in diameter with your hands. (We use a 2-teaspoon cookie scooper at The Cookie Jar.)

  Roll the cookie balls in the bowl of white sugar and place them on the cookie sheet, 12 to a standard-size sheet.

  Bake the Watermelon Cookies at 325 degrees F. for 10 to 12 minutes (mine took 11 minutes) or until they’re just beginning to turn golden around the edges. Don’t overbake.

  Let the cookies cool on the cookie sheets for no more than a minute, and then remove them to a wire rack to cool completely.

  Yield: Approximately 6 dozen pretty and unusual cookies that kids will adore, especially if you tell them that they’re made with Kool-Aid.

  Hannah’s 2ndNote: Brandi’s mother baked these cookies to send to school on birthdays. She used a number cookie cutter that matched Brandi’s or her sister’s age that year.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Hannah’s sides hurt from laughing so hard. Mayor Bascomb was riding a donkey named Harry. Hannah knew that because the donkey’s name was stenciled on the donkey-sized sun hat he wore, complete with slits for his ears to poke up from the straw.

  The mayor had hit a nice double to left field, but the left fielder, Gus York, couldn’t seem to get his donkey traveling any faster than an ambling walk. Meanwhile, the mayor’s donkey had stopped cold in his tracks between first and second base. Harry’s head was down, his tail was swishing from side to side in a show of bad temper, and despite the mayor’s encouraging shouts of “giddyup, boy” and “c’mon, Harry,” he was living up to his stubborn stereotype.

  Two members of the team in the field did not have to ride donkeys. The pitcher stood on his own two feet, and so did the catcher. The batter didn’t sit on his donkey to hit, but he was required to mount in order to “run” the bases.

  The teams had two donkey wranglers. One was Ken Purvis, who’d admitted to Hannah that he’d grown up in the Cities and knew next to nothing about farm animals, and the other was Doug Greerson. As the president of the Lake Eden First Mercantile Bank, Doug had dealt with some stubborn people, but he didn’t have much experience with donkeys.

  Hannah watched as Doug pulled on Harry’s reins and Ken pushed from behind. It seemed to have no effect at all. She would have thought that Doctor Bob, the local vet, would have been the logical choice for a wrangler, but he was known as a prodigious hitter and the mayor had wanted him in the lineup.

  “Take a look at Petunia,” Michelle said, nudging Hannah. “I want to know what you think of her hat.”

  Hannah glanced at Petunia, the donkey that Joe Dietz was riding at third base. She was wearing a big, wide-brimmed hat of white straw with large orange and yellow flowers arranged around the crown. “That’s the most…” Hannah was about to say ridiculous when she realized that Delores, who was sitting on the other side of her, was also wearing a white straw hat with orange and yellow flowers arranged around the brim. “That’s the most beautiful hat of them all,” she said instead, giving Michelle a look that promised retribution in one form or another.

  It seemed to take forever, but Gus York finally reached the ball that the mayor had hit. He was about to hop off his donkey, Custer. Custer, who had taken his namesake seriously and truly looked as though this game were his last stand, decided to wake up and smell the roses. Literally. With Gus hanging on for dear life, Custer began to move faster than Hannah had thought a donkey could move, across the baseball diamond, past the stands, streaki
ng across the parking lot, and coming to a skidding stop at the rose garden the school grounds team had planted outside Mrs. Baxter’s classroom.

  After a hasty conference with Doctor Bob, the two donkey wranglers headed off to retrieve the absent team member. They made a stop at the concession stand and then hurried to rescue Gus. And in a shorter time than anyone had believed possible, Ken and Doug brought Gus and his donkey back to the field by walking in front of Custer and feeding him bits of apple turnover.

  “Does anyone want anything from the concession stand?” Hannah asked.

  “Nothing, thank you, dear,” her mother responded.

  “No thanks,” Michelle said.

  “Okay then…I’ll be back in a couple of minutes. I want to see how the apple turnovers are selling.”

  Hannah made her way down the steps of the bleachers and headed for the concession stand. She was almost there when someone called her name. She turned to see Andrea carrying Bethany, followed by Tracey who was in charge of the diaper bag and the booster seat.

  “Hi, Aunt Hannah,” Tracey said, giving her a big smile. “Everybody loved your Imperial Cereal. Karen and I divided it up so everybody around us had a taste.”

  “Did you tell them you made it?”

  “Yes, but I don’t think they believed me. Maybe I’ll have to invite them over and do it in front of them next time.”

  “Good idea,” Hannah said with a smile, and then she turned to Andrea. “Did you find out any more about Tachyon?”

  “Not yet. Bill’s in a conference and I didn’t get a chance to talk to him. That’s why I’m here with the kids. Everybody knows he’s overseeing the murder investigation, but it wouldn’t be good for the sheriff’s whole family to miss such an important charity function.”