Red Velvet Cupcake Murder

by Joanne Fluke

“Thank you, Detective Kingston,” Howie said, and then he turned to Hannah. “Come with me, Hannah. I’ll drive you home.”

  Hannah took the hint that wasn’t exactly gentle, and merely nodded. Howie didn’t want her to say another word in front of Mike. Mike was all cop and she was all prime murder suspect. This was not a friendly situation and the sooner she put distance between them, the better.

  Hannah dove down toward the darkness that gathered at the very bottom of the pond. As she descended into the curious half-light that caused colors to change and fade into some strange hue that went nameless on color charts, she spotted the car. The rippling water made it appear to be moving forward, driving across the bottom of the pond. Even the driver appeared to be moving with her blond hair trailing out in wispy tendrils behind her.

  She wanted to leave, to go back up to the surface where it was bright and safe. The driver was dead. She knew that. But as she approached the side of the car, the woman turned her head and stared into Hannah’s eyes with her dead wavy eyes. And then she lifted one pale hand and beckoned Hannah closer.

  She didn’t want to go. She knew she shouldn’t go. But some force stronger than the waving water drew her closer to the car. The driver smiled as she approached. Her mouth opened and a rush of bubbles came out. Not dead then. You couldn’t make bubbles without air in your lungs.

  The woman used one long wavy finger to point to the passenger seat. She wanted Hannah to get into the car and sit next to her. But Hannah didn’t want to get in with a dead woman who still had air in her lungs.

  There was another burst of bubbles and Hannah heard something. It was barely audible, but it was a word and the word was closer.

  Despite her revulsion, Hannah felt her body move forward. She seemed to have no control over her muscles as they carried her to the side of the car. And then the woman’s arm snaked out to remove the thermos on the passenger seat and to pull Hannah into the seat. Her long wavy fingers clicked the seat belt securely into place, and then she laughed over and over, an insane, cascading laugh like the loons that called across the lake in the dead of night. And then her arms shot out to wrap around Hannah’s chest like a band of wet steel that expelled the last breath of air from her body, squeezing, scratching, and kneading her into submission.

  And then, as Hannah felt herself sink lower and lower, heading toward the dim recesses of her watery grave, there was another burst of bubbles from the dead woman’s mouth that formed words.

  Go for a ride, her eerie underwater voice said. Go for a ride and stay with me forever.

  “Noooooo!” Hannah moaned in terror, pushing back the weight of the dead woman’s arms and sitting bolt upright in bed. Almost simultaneously there was an irate yowl from Moishe as he landed on the rug by the side of the bed.

  It took a full minute for Hannah to realize that it had all been a dream, a terrible nightmare. She must have made some sounds of distress while she was in the throes of the nightmare and Moishe had jumped up on her chest. She wasn’t sure if he’d been trying to protect her from her nightmare or whether he was merely curious, but her sleeping mind had incorporated him into the fabric of the horrible dream.

  “I’m sorry if I scared you, Moishe. Come here and I’ll scratch you behind the ears. Everything’s okay. I’m awake now.”

  Moishe regarded her with unblinking eyes from the top of her dresser. His tail flicked once and Hannah knew that he was not about to risk a repeat of his unceremonious exit from her bed.

  Hannah reached out to turn on the light and stopped in midair. She didn’t need the light. Daylight was streaming through her bedroom window. But that was impossible. This was a workday and she always got up in the dark on a workday.

  One glance at the clock told her the truth. It was nine-thirty in the morning. She’d slept right through her alarm. Of course that wasn’t surprising. When she’d come back to the condo, long after midnight, she’d been utterly exhausted and very grateful to see Michelle waiting up for her. They’d talked about everything that had happened until Hannah could no longer keep her eyes open, and Michelle had insisted that she go to bed. And now she’d slept right through the summons of her extra-loud alarm clock. Or had she?

  The button to activate her alarm clock was not pulled out. And she distinctly remembered pulling it out when she’d gone to bed. Someone had come in and turned off her alarm, and since there was no one else here, Michelle must have done it.

  Hannah pulled on her slippers, got into her robe, and padded down the hallway to the guest room. All she needed to see was the neatly made bed and she knew that Michelle was up. But Michelle wasn’t in the living room and she wasn’t in the kitchen either. There was, however, a note propped up next to the coffeemaker.

  Coffee’s ready to go, the note read. Just turn it on. No need to hurry. Lisa and I have everything covered at the shop. Jack and Marge are helping. I baked Jamboree Muffins. They’re in a basket on the kitchen table. Let me know what you think of them. Mother called. Cancel taking Moishe to see Barbara this afternoon. If you can, Doc Knight wants you to come tonight around six. Mother is bringing Jenny in to meet you at work this afternoon. Hope you got good sleep. Love, Michelle.

  Hannah turned on the coffee machine and sat down in a chair at the Formica-topped kitchen table that was already considered an antique. The basket of muffins sat in the center of the table and there was a stack of paper napkins and a jar of soft butter next to it. There was even a table knife to spread the butter. Michelle had thought of everything.

  Unable to resist at least a peek, Hannah lifted the napkin that covered the muffins. There were six nestled inside, their tops puffed and golden. Jamboree Muffins must be one of Michelle’s new recipes. Hannah had never tasted a Jamboree Muffin before.

  She told herself she should wait for her coffee to be ready, but the aroma of freshly baked muffins was too compelling to deny. Hannah took one out of the basket, broke it open, and began to smile. Jamboree was a perfect name for these muffins since there was a spoonful of strawberry jam in the center.

  She ate the first half of the muffin without butter. It was delicious. She spread butter on the second half and that was delicious, too. She wasn’t quite sure which way was best so she got up to pour herself a cup of coffee, and decided that in the interests of research, she really ought to run another trial.

  It was back to the muffin basket to choose another muffin. There was no way to tell what was inside each muffin so she chose one at random and hoped it would be a strawberry again, or another kind of jam she liked. That brought up the question of whether there was any jam or jelly she didn’t like, and Hannah took a moment to think about it. “Mint jelly,” she said to Moishe, who’d just come into the kitchen. Andrea had once made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with mint jelly and they had been simply awful.

  Moishe was looking at her expectantly, so she got up and filled his food bowl and gave him fresh water even though Michelle might have fed him earlier. Then she washed her hands and went back to the table to run the second trial.

  The second muffin was filled with a spoonful of peach jam. Norman would love muffins with peach jam. She’d remember to get the recipe from Michelle so that she could bake them for him. She probably should have saved this one for him, but she’d already broken it open and it was too late now.

  Four cups of coffee and a third trial with another muffin, one with grape jelly inside, and Hannah decided she couldn’t decide if the muffins were better with or without butter. She also concluded that she couldn’t conclude which jam or jelly she liked best. She had the terrible urge to break the remaining muffins open to see which kind of jam or jelly was inside each one, but she remembered how upset Delores had been with her years ago when Hannah had scraped some chocolate off the bottom of each piece of candy in the box so that she could identify her favorite one. It’s not polite, Delores had told a four-year-old Hannah. You touched them all and now no one else will want to eat them.

  Hannah gave a little
laugh at the memory. She hadn’t realized it at the time, but her mother had taught her an important lesson that day. If you wanted to eat an entire box of candy and not share it with anyone else, all you had to do was touch each piece. She had the childish urge to touch the remaining three muffins so that they would be hers, all hers, but she told herself that doing so would be childish, and she went off to take her morning shower instead.

  JAMBOREE MUFFINS

  Preheat oven to 400 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

  1 large egg, beaten

  ¾ cup whole milk

  ½ cup vegetable oil

  cup white (granulated) sugar

  2 cups all-purpose flour (pack it down when you

  measure it)

  3 teaspoons (one Tablespoon) baking powder

  1 teaspoon salt

  Approximately 1/4 cup jam of your choice

  Hannah’s 1st Note: This is a great recipe for using up all those jars of jam with little dibs and dabs in the bottom that are taking up too much room on your refrigerator shelf!

  Grease or spray the bottoms of 12 muffin cups with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray. Alternatively, you can use paper cupcake liners. Use a muffin pan or a cupcake pan that has cups approximately 2 and ½ inches across the top and are 1 and ¼ inches deep. (That’s a standard size.)

  Hannah’s 2nd Note: Don’t use an electric mixer to mix up these muffins. Just stir everything up by hand. The muffin batter should be a little lumpy, like brownie batter, and not over-mixed.

  In a medium-sized bowl, beat the egg with the milk until they are well combined.

  Stir in the vegetable oil and the white sugar.

  Measure out the flour in another bowl. Stir in the baking powder and the salt with a fork.

  Add the flour mixture to the egg mixture in half-cup increments, stirring after each increment, but only until the flour is moistened. The resulting muffin batter will be lumpy. That’s okay. It’s supposed to be.

  Fill the muffin cups half-full with batter.

  Get out your jam jars. You can use all one kind, or several different kinds of jam. It’s totally up to you.

  Use a teaspoon measure or a small-sized spoon from your silverware drawer to drop 1 teaspoon of jam into the center of each muffin.

  Hannah’s 3rd Note: I hope Mother never reads this recipe because I use one of the antique silver collector’s spoons she gave me to dish out the jam and drop it into the center of the muffin batter.

  Cover the jam with muffin batter until the muffin cups are ¾ full.

  Bake at 400 degrees F. for approximately 20 minutes, or until the muffins are golden brown.

  Let the Jamboree Muffins cool in the pan for 10 minutes and then serve them with plenty of butter. They’re good warm and they’re good cold. They also reheat well in the microwave.

  Yield: 12 yummy muffins

  Chapter Nineteen

  As Hannah prepared to turn in the alley that led to the parking lot behind The Cookie Jar, she noticed that the street ahead was lined with cars. Every single parking spot was taken, even the spot in front of her mother’s antique shop, all the way to the end of the block. Perhaps Claire was having a sale at her dress shop, but it was unusual for her to open in the morning. Ever since she’d married Reverend Bob Knudson and moved into the parsonage with Reverend Bob and his grandmother, Claire’s hours had been noon to five.

  The alley was crowded, too. One whole side was lined with cars. It must be a sale. She’d never seen this many cars on their block before. She pulled into her parking lot and found that it was also crowded. Thankfully, her spot was open. What in the world was going on?

  When she opened the back kitchen door at The Cookie Jar, a buzz of voices floated out to greet her. It sounded like the coffee shop was packed with customers. As she stepped into the kitchen, she saw Jack Herman refilling several of the large display jars they kept behind the counter.

  “Hi, Jack,” she greeted him.

  “Hello, Hannah.”

  Hannah smiled. It was a good day for Lisa’s dad. He’d been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s over a year ago, and there were times when he forgot who she was.

  “It’s noisy out there.” Hannah gestured toward the coffee shop and then she turned to hang her purse on one of the hooks by the back door. “Do we have a lot of customers?”

  “We do. It’s crowded, Hannah. And we’re selling lots of cookies. Coffee, too.”

  “That’s good. Is Claire having a sale at her dress shop next door?”

  “No, Claire is here. She brought Grandma Knudson down the hill and they’re sitting at a table with Ava Schultz and Betty Jackson. Betty ate four cookies already. She loves our new Chocolate-Covered Peanut Cookies.”

  Hannah felt more than a little uncomfortable. She’d missed less than a halfday’s work and she was already out of step with what was going on. “I didn’t know we had a new cookie.”

  “It was Marge’s idea when she couldn’t find chocolate-covered raisins to make Chocolate-Covered Raisin Cookies. Florence had chocolate-covered peanuts so she changed the recipe a little bit and just used those.”

  “Very smart,” Hannah said, still feeling a little like an intruder in her own cookie shop.

  Jack glanced up at the clock on the wall. “Only fifteen minutes to go,” he said, picking up the two cookie jars he’d filled and heading for the swinging door that separated the kitchen from the coffee shop. “I’ll be right back. I need to talk to you, Hannah.”

  Hannah was still just as puzzled as she’d been when she walked in the door. Only fifteen minutes to go for what? What in the world was going on today?

  “Uh-oh!” she groaned as her mind settled on the obvious conclusion. Lisa was telling the story of how Hannah had found Doctor Bev’s body. But how could she tell that story when Hannah hadn’t even told her about it? Unless . . .

  “Michelle,” Hannah said, under her breath. She’d told Michelle everything last night and Michelle could have told Lisa. But why would Lisa tell the story without running it past her first?

  “Hannah!” Lisa came rushing into the kitchen. “Dad said you were out here. Do you want to listen to the story of how you found Doctor Bev’s body?”

  Hannah shook her head. “Not really. Finding her was bad enough. I don’t want to hear all about it again.”

  Lisa was silent for a moment and then she sighed. “You’re upset that I’m talking about it, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not upset. It’s what we always do. But why did you start telling the story before you checked with me?”

  “Because Michelle and I thought you might need the money for your defense fund and we decided to make hay while the sun shines. She talked to Howie this morning and Howie said he’d cut his fees in half for you, but it’s going to cost an arm and a leg if you’re charged and the case goes to trial.”

  Lisa had just used two clichés in a row, but Hannah didn’t call her on it. She was too busy with the two other clichés that were warring in her mind. One was Don’t borrow trouble, and the other was Expect the best, but prepare for the worst.

  “We were just trying to help you, Hannah. But if you want me to stop telling the story, I will.”

  Hannah thought about that for a moment and then she shook her head. “Don’t stop. You go right ahead and tell it. I have nothing to hide and the fact that you’re talking about it might convince everyone in town that I had nothing to do with Doctor Bev’s death. As a matter of fact . . .” Hannah paused and considered what she’d been about to say. She gave a brief nod and continued. “As a matter fact, let’s do a second act tomorrow.”

  “What’s the second act?”

  “It’s the story of how Mike came out to the condo to take me down to the station. And how Norman called Howie Levine to meet me there. You can even cover the salient parts of the interrogation. I told Michelle all about it last night and you can get all the details from her.”

  “Great! I’ll tease it at the end of the story today and
that will bring them in tomorrow.” It was Lisa’s turn to pause and look thoughtful. “Actually . . . we could even do a third act.”

  “A third act? What story would that be?”

  “How the sheriff’s department came in here last night to toss the whole place. And how Herb and I spent all night cleaning up when they left. We can also explore what evidence caused Mike to bring you down to the sheriff’s office to interrogate you. I know your mother can get me a copy of the autopsy report. She already offered to do it.”

  “She did?”

  “You betcha! She was in here this morning before seven and so was Andrea. Everyone’s pulling for you, Hannah. And they’ll be pulling for you even more when I tell them what a . . . a witch Doctor Bev was to you on the Petersons’ porch. It won’t hurt your defense if it comes to that. The sheriff’s department tossed the Peterson house, too. And they didn’t find any substance that you could have added to the cupcakes to cause Doctor Bev’s death.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  “Yes, it is. Just forget about the business here. Michelle and I are taking care of it, and Marge and Dad are happy to help. Actually, I think it helps Dad a lot to interact with all these people. We’ll take care of things here, so you concentrate on proving your innocence.”

  “I just hope I can do that. It might be easier to prove the killer’s guilt than my innocence.”

  “That could be true, but you know you can do it. The lady who hates spiders, but captures them in a napkin to take them outside and set them free couldn’t possibly kill anyone, even a waste of oxygen like Doctor Bev.”