Chocolate Cream Pie Murder

by Joanne Fluke

  “Come in, Mike,” she said loudly enough so that he could hear it, and only then did she unlock the door and open it.

  “Good girl!” Mike said, entering the kitchen and stomping the snow off his boots on the shag rug that Hannah kept there for that purpose. “I’m really glad you’re using the peephole.”

  Hannah had all she could do not to laugh. When Mike had said, Good girl! it had been in the same tone of voice he would use to train a young puppy to sit or heel. “I think looking through the peephole is becoming a habit with me,” she told him.

  “That’s excellent,” he said and this time it wasn’t in his puppy training voice. “Just keep doing it every time and it’ll become second nature to you.”

  “I’m surprised to see you, Mike,” Hannah said, heading to the kitchen coffeepot to pour him a cup. She set it down in front of him and took her own seat at the work station. “Since I wasn’t the one who discovered Ross’s body and you and Lonnie were, you don’t really need my statement, do you?”

  “No, and that’s not why I’m here.”

  Hannah waited while Mike took a sip of his coffee. “You don’t have any cookies to go with this, do you, Hannah?”

  Hannah’s sense of humor kicked in and she began to laugh. “Of course I do. This is a bakery, remember?”

  “I know that, but you only got here twenty-five minutes ago. You didn’t have time to bake yet, did you?”

  Hannah glanced at the clock on the wall. Mike was right. She’d walked in the door with Michelle exactly twenty-five minutes ago. “How do you know when I got here?”

  “I was parked at the other end of the alley.”

  “You’re surveilling me?”

  Mike shook his head. “No, of course not. I just wanted to give you time to get settled before I came in.”

  Hannah noticed that Mike still looked uncomfortable. “Why did you want me settled in?” she asked him. “Is there something you want to tell me about the murder case?”

  “No, I just need to assure you that I’ll do everything in my power to catch whoever did this to Ross.”

  Hannah was surprised that Mike thought she needed reassurance on that point. “I know you will, Mike. You’re a very good detective.”

  “Thanks, but this is a little different. This time we won’t be comparing notes like we usually do.”

  You mean you won’t be pumping me for information? Hannah’s suspicious mind prompted her, but Hannah bit back the urge to ask that question.

  “I mean that this time, of course, you won’t be . . . uh . . . actively involved.”

  “I won’t?”

  Mike began to frown. “No, you won’t. You’re too close to this situation, Hannah. You can’t be objective.”

  “No, but I’ve never been objective,” Hannah retorted, feeling her ire begin to rise. “I wouldn’t get involved at all if I didn’t care about the victim.”

  “But Ross hurt you. He betrayed you, Hannah. The guy was a liar and louse!”

  Hannah began to smile. “And you’re claiming that you’re objective after saying something like that?”

  “Well . . . no. Not entirely. But I know how to curb my emotions and conduct myself in a rational manner.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. You’re not trained to do anything like that. Besides . . .” Mike looked as if he wished he hadn’t started this conversation, but he continued it anyway. “You don’t owe Ross anything, Hannah. Ross treated you like dirt. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d killed him yourself!”

  “Does that mean that I’m a suspect?” Hannah asked, even though she knew she wasn’t.

  “No! Not at all! You were with Norman and he’s corroborated that. It’s just that you don’t have to help to catch Ross’s killer. There’s no reason for you to do that for him.”

  “Well, I’m going to investigate anyway and I’m not doing it for Ross. I’m doing it for me!”

  Mike stared at her for a moment and then he gave a resigned sigh. “I knew nothing I could say would do any good,” he said in such a sorrowful tone that Hannah came close to feeling a bit sorry for him. “I wish you wouldn’t get involved, Hannah. I just wish you’d . . . go on vacation or something. Go somewhere else and try to forget you ever met the guy.”

  Hannah knew that Mike was only trying to help her, but she held firm. “Thanks, Mike, but I have to stay here. I can’t go off to Aruba, or somewhere when I don’t know who killed Ross and why he was murdered. I have to help you find out and I have to do it for myself.”

  Mike thought about that for a moment and then he sighed again. “All right. I guess there’s nothing I can say to change your mind.”

  “That’s right. So are we going to work together? Or will I be forced to leave you in the dust?”

  The silence between them was much longer this time, but finally Mike nodded. “My dad used to say that if you can’t beat ’em, you might as well join ’em.”

  “Your father was a wise man,” Hannah said, getting up from her stool to freshen Mike’s coffee and fill a plate with cookies. “Here you go,” she said, setting the plate in front of him. “I don’t suppose you have the autopsy report in yet.”

  Mike took a cookie and bit into it. Then he sipped his coffee. “I have it,” he said at last. “What do you want to know?”

  “The time of death,” Hannah said, hoping that her voice was as strong as she wanted it to be.

  “Doc says between noon and five p.m.”

  “What time did you get to my condo?”

  “A little after three. The door was standing open so I knew right away that something was wrong.”

  “And you noticed that Moishe was missing?”

  Mike nodded. “At first I figured that he was under the bed, but when I looked, he wasn’t there. And since the closet was open, I could see that he wasn’t hiding in there either.”

  Hannah shivered slightly, imagining the scene when Mike had arrived at her condo. “Did you look for Moishe?”

  “Not right then. I couldn’t. I called Lonnie and when he got there, I sent him out to search for Moishe.”

  “You didn’t go with him?”

  “I couldn’t. I had to stay with . . .” Mike hesitated, and Hannah knew he was searching for words that would have less emotional impact than using Ross’s name. “I positioned myself at your bedroom doorway,” he continued, “and I called Doc from there. He got there in less than twenty minutes and your mother came, too.”

  “But you didn’t let Mother come upstairs, did you?”

  “No. Doc told her to stay outside and help Lonnie search for Moishe.”

  Hannah thought about Mike standing guard at her bedroom doorway, waiting there for Lonnie and Doc to arrive. She had been in his position before, staying at the scene of a murder and waiting for Mike to arrive. She knew exactly how difficult it was to stay there, not touching anything that might turn out to be evidence, and doing nothing but thinking about what had happened to the victim.

  “Don’t you ever wish you did something else like working at a desk job instead of what you do now?” she asked him.

  “Sometimes. Murder scenes are always bad and some are worse than others. But after the coroner and the crime scene guys get there, I can start my real work.”

  “Catching the murderer?”

  “Yes. There’s real satisfaction when I solve a case and catch a killer.”

  Hannah thought about that and she gave a little nod of agreement. “I understand perfectly. And I really hope we’re successful this time.”

  “We will be. I won’t stop working until I get him. Or her.”

  “Do you think the killer could be a woman?”

  “Maybe. I never rule anything out.” Mike took another cookie and devoured it. “What else do you want to know from me, Hannah?”

  “I’d like to know why my closet doors were open. I distinctly remember closing them before I left for work.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m po
sitive. One door was stuck and it wouldn’t close until I pulled out one of Moishe’s mouse toys that had gotten stuck in the track. I tossed it to him and he ran out to the living room to hide it there.”

  “You don’t suppose Moishe could have . . .” Mike stopped speaking in mid-thought. “No, of course he couldn’t have pulled all those clothes and boxes out into the bedroom.”

  “I knew what you were thinking and you’re right. Moishe couldn’t have done it, not if there were boxes pulled out on the floor. I had things that were packed in boxes, but the boxes were all on the top closet shelf.”

  “Okay. If you’re sure you closed the closet doors, then either the victim or his killer was looking for something hidden in your closet. You didn’t leave any boxes of clothes on the bedroom floor, did you?”

  “No. I always put things away when I leave the bedroom in the morning.”

  “Then whoever it was assumed that something was hidden in your closet or in one of your dresser drawers. And whoever it was didn’t take the time to put anything back.” Mike frowned slightly. “You didn’t notice the mess on the carpet, Hannah?”

  “I don’t remember if I did or not. The only thing I remember clearly was the bed. And . . . him. That’s all.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Even though she didn’t want to relive those painful moments, Hannah thought back to her first sight of the bedroom. “If I saw the things on the floor, my mind didn’t process it.”

  “All right. Is there anything that you normally keep in your bedroom that either Ross or the killer might have wanted?”

  “The money!” Hannah gasped, the answer hitting her squarely in her solar plexus. “I think someone was searching for the money! Remember when Doug told us he didn’t think Ross believed him when he claimed that he never kept the large amount of money that Ross wanted in the bank safe? That’s when Ross accused Doug of giving the money to me.”

  “Exactly.” Mike reached out to give her a little pat on the back. “That was the first thing that occurred to me. It could have been the money, but it also could have been something else.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like something Ross left behind in your bedroom, something he needed to take with him when he left.”

  “That makes sense,” Hannah said. “It could even be something he hid in my bedroom on purpose and he planned to come back for it later.”

  “That’s possible, too. Did you clean out your closet, or reorganize it, or anything like that after Ross left?”

  “No. I didn’t have the heart or the time to do that. And don’t forget that, at least at first, I expected him to come back any day. I just closed his side of the closet and didn’t even open it while he was gone, and then, when I realized that he probably wasn’t coming back, I felt so betrayed, I didn’t want to see anything that reminded me of him.”

  “That’s understandable, Hannah. It was a very painful time for you. I felt that way on a smaller scale when my wife was killed. I didn’t want to look at her clothes and remember. It was over six months before I was able to pack them up and give them to charity.”

  Mike looked so sad that Hannah knew she had to change the subject. “Do you think that I should go back to the condo and look to see if I notice anything that’s missing?”

  “Eventually, yes. Right now your condo is still off-limits to everyone. The crime scene team is lifting fingerprints and it’s going to take them a while.”

  Hannah gave a little groan. Her condo would be an absolute mess when the crime scene people got through. She’d gone through this once before when Connie Mac was killed in her walk-in cooler and she’d needed to run countless loads of baking pans, cookie sheets, and mixing bowls through her industrial dishwasher to make sure they were free of fingerprint powder.

  “I know they leave a mess,” Mike said, accurately reading her thoughts. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do about that. They have to be thorough, and they may find something that’ll help to catch the killer.”

  “I know. It’s okay, Mike. Do you have a crime scene photo of my closet, one that doesn’t show . . .” Hannah stopped speaking and took a deep, calming breath. “. . . that doesn’t show . . . him?”

  “Yes, I’ve got one,” Mike said. He opened his briefcase, pulled out a photo, and handed it to her. “Here. It doesn’t show anything else, Hannah. I won’t give you those.”

  “You don’t have to. I remember.” Hannah took the photo from Mike and studied it. “The boxes on the floor were on the top shelf when I left for work in the morning. Whoever did this pulled them down, took off the lids, and dumped them out. Then they pawed through the contents and just left them on the floor. Ross must have done it. It couldn’t have been the killer.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because Ross was . . . shot, wasn’t he?” Hannah paused to take another deep breath. “And then the killer would have wanted to get out of my condo right after he shot him. He wouldn’t have taken the time to take down those boxes and dump them out. He’d be much more concerned about getting away before anyone realized that the noise they’d heard was a gunshot and they called the police.”

  “Yes, Hannah, he was shot. You make a good point about the noise, but everything changes if the killer used a silencer.”

  “Did he?”

  Mike shrugged. “I don’t know. There’s no way to tell by just looking.”

  “Do you know the caliber of the bullet? The ballistics report hasn’t come in yet?”

  “Not yet. I’ll tell you when it does.”

  “So we really don’t know anything except that Ross was murdered and Ross needed a hundred thousand dollars in cash for some reason.”

  “That’s about it. This is going to be a challenge, Hannah.”

  Both of them were silent then, sipping their coffee and thinking. When the plate of cookies was as empty as their coffee cups, Mike said goodbye and left. Hannah locked the back kitchen door behind him, walked directly to the drawer where she kept her blank shorthand notebooks, and took one out. Then she sat down at the work station and began to write down the suspects she already had in Ross’s murder case.

  * * *

  “Hannah.” Grandma Knudson came into the kitchen. “How are you?”

  “Still a little shaky, but I’m all right. Have you told anyone about your new hearing aids yet?”

  “Not yet. I will eventually though. You want to know if I’ve heard anything, don’t you, Hannah?”

  “Yes. Someone killed Ross and I have to find out who did it and why.”

  “Of course you do. It’s that insatiable curiosity of yours. That drives you as much as your thirst for justice.” Grandma Knudson smiled. “You’re a good person, Hannah. And before you ask me, I didn’t do it.”

  Hannah was shocked. “I never thought that you did!”

  “What a pity. I’d like to think that I might be capable of a bold action like that. But no, Hannah, I haven’t heard anyone in town mention anything about it. Everyone’s speculating just like you and Mike are.”

  “Carrie was worried about Earl because he carried a rifle and a handgun on his snowplow.”

  “Do you suspect Earl?”

  “Not really. I talked to him and I don’t think he’d be that violent. But there’s always the possibility that I’m wrong.”

  “What time was Ross shot, Hannah?”

  “Doc says between noon and five p.m., but since Mike arrived at my condo at a little past three, we know that the time of death was between noon and three.”

  “Then Earl didn’t do it.”

  “How do you know? Earl said he wished that Ross would come back to Lake Eden so that he could teach Ross a permanent lesson.”

  Grandma Knudson laughed. “Earl talks a good game, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly. Have you heard the story about the bobcat he shot?”

  “Yes. Carrie mentioned it when she told me about the firearms that Earl carried on his snowplow.”

  “Earl loves that s
tory, but he told me the truth about the whole incident.”

  Hannah was surprised. “Earl didn’t shoot the bobcat?”

  “Earl shot over the bobcat.”

  “You mean . . . he didn’t actually kill the bobcat.”

  “I mean Earl didn’t hit the bobcat at all. He just fired over the bobcat’s head to scare it away from the snowplow. There’s no way Earl killed Ross. The worst he’d do if he ran into Ross would be to hit Ross’s car with his snowplow and run him off the road.”

  Hannah breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good to know! But still . . . sometimes people do terrible things in the heat of the moment and regret it later.”

  “True, but Earl was nowhere near your condo complex when Ross was murdered.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because he was up on our street at a quarter to one, plowing out the church parking lot, and there’s no way he could have killed Ross at noon and gotten back to town in the snowplow that fast. I looked out the window at twelve forty-five and saw him working on the church parking lot. And he’d already cleared the street that runs past the church. After that, Earl cleared our circular driveway at the parsonage and he didn’t finish until one-thirty.”

  “But he still could have driven out to my condo and killed Ross before three.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with your math, Hannah. You just don’t know the whole story. After Earl cleared our parsonage driveway, I went out and invited him in for coffee. Earl was really cold. There’s a heater on the snowplow, but the wind was blowing and it’s an open cab. His feet stay warm, but the snow blows in when he’s plowing.”

  “Did Earl tell you that?” Hannah asked, wondering if that was accurate.

  “No, Carrie did. She tapes cardboard over the inside of the cab when she rides with Earl.”

  That was good enough for Hannah and she quickly revised her timetable. “How long did Earl stay at the parsonage?” she asked.

  Grandma Knudson smiled. It was what Delores would have termed the smile on the cat that got into the cream pot in one of her Regency romance novels.